


Definitely (more than) just friends

by TheIcyQueen



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Cutesy, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Mutual Pining, Prompt Fic, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:21:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21594484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIcyQueen/pseuds/TheIcyQueen
Summary: Getting roped into playing 7 Minutes in Heaven with your crush because your friends are tired of you dragging your feet? Embarrassing.Getting roped into playing 7 Minutes in Heaven with your crush because everyone else at the party thinks you're already dating anyway? Somehow worse!This is why Chris and Ash don't do parties.
Relationships: Ashley Brown/Chris Hartley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	Definitely (more than) just friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ClumsyBookworm18](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClumsyBookworm18/gifts).



> This was written as part of a prompt for clumsybookworm18 on tumblr! A quick reminder, if you're interested in my shorter writing pieces (i.e., prompt/ask-based stuff), you can find me as queenofbaws on tumblr!

“This…is… _mortifying_.”

Under normal circumstances, it would’ve taken a threat of death to keep Chris from cracking the most predictably groan-worthy joke he was capable of (namely, ‘I think you meant _This…is…Sparta!_ ’), but uh, these were not normal circumstances. There was nothing normal, or humane for that matter, about these circumstances.

Ashley scooped her hair out of her face with both hands, raking it back before it fell right into place again. Her face was burning so badly that she wouldn’t have been shocked if it was the same color as the bangs falling over her eyes. “This is just… _ugh!_ Aren’t we a little old for this kinda stuff?”

“Yooou would think…” He hadn’t even wanted to go to the party in the first place. But per the usual, Josh had talked him into it.

“It’s like, 2014! Do people really still even _play_ Seven Minutes in Heaven? It feels so…I don’t know…early 90’s. Or…something.” She frowned, sneakers scuffing against the concrete flooring of the unfinished laundry room. “The second we get out of here, I’m strangling Josh with my bare hands.”

Chris shook his head. “You will literally have to fight me for that privilege, Ash.”

The problem—the _real_ problem, the one that somehow managed to be even bigger and badder than the humiliation they were both currently basting in like Thanksgiving turkeys in gravy—was how _casual_ all of the other people at the party had been. It wasn’t as though everyone had started ‘har har’ing and throwing elbows to tease them…it probably would’ve been a little bit better if they _had!_ No, the general reaction had been a collective shrug.

A collective shrug and a very, _very_ flatly delivered, “Oh whatever, they’re dating _anyway_ ,” from Emily. Then she’d just…gone back to texting. As if it had been nothing to her. Nothing. At. All.

“I mean…I don’t…I don’t even _get_ why people _think_ that!” She folded her arms across her chest in a huff. Maybe if she got angry enough, or indignant enough, she could stop _blushing_ so hard. (Or at least she might be able to pretend the flush was brought on by something other than her embarrassment.)

“I _know!_ It’s just like, _what?_ ”

“We don’t act like we’re dating—”

“No we don’t! We absolutely do not. Ever!” He’d taken to wandering through the cramped space of the laundry room, nearly tripping over a shin-level rack where a frankly irresponsible number of stockings had been hung out to air-dry, catching himself just before he fell. Not the _best_ look. He cringed into himself, hoping no one outside the door had been able to hear the clatter…the _last_ thing either of them needed was those assholes out there getting _ideas_.

“Nothing we do together is even _vaguely_ date-like.”

“Not even a _little!_ ”

“It’s just weird.”

“ _So_ weird! So freaking weird. You know what? I bet…I bet this is some shitty prank that Josh has set up to make us look like idiots.” The accusation filled him with a sudden, righteous surge of confidence. It had to be a joke. It _had_ to be. This was just another example of Josh being an _asshole_ , trying to rib him in front of everyone else because of his stupid, schmoopy crush on Ashley…But his mouth just kept running the way it always did when he was anxious. “I mean, we spend a lot of time together, sure, but what? So _everyone_ who spends time with someone else is _dating_ that person? That’s just—th-that’s just stupid.”

Ashley hummed a nervous little sound in reply. She hopped gracelessly up to sit on the washer, legs aimlessly kicking back and forth as she set her hands on the edge of the machine. “ _Seriously_. Ugh. Like…and yeah, okay, we text a lot, but again… _friends_.”

“For real! I don’t know what they’re thinking.”

She went oddly silent, then, clenching her jaw into a rictus of uncertainty. “But…okay, I mean…I _guess_ that like… _maybe_ people could get the wrong idea if they saw our good morning and goodnight texts…”

Chris bristled nervously. “I—that—i-i-it’s just _polite!_ ”

“Well yeah, _I_ know that! Like, _obviously!_ But… _other people_ , though…”

“Well…well yeah, sure, I mean…” When had his throat gotten so dry? “ _Other people_ , maybe, yeah, sure.”

The laundry room was painfully quiet. It was all too easy to imagine the others with their ears pressed against the door, trying to figure out exactly what was going on in there.

“H-hey, so do you have any idea how much time we have left, or…?”

Her mind was elsewhere, though, and she made no sign of having heard him at all. “And I mean, all right, so _sometimes_ we share food. But friends do that!”

His shoulders slumped. “…shit.”

“Yeah. I know.” There was a quiet, metallic sound as she reached over and patted the top of the dryer next to her, signaling him to sit. “Maybe we’ve been, um…giving people the wrong idea.”

“I hate it when you’re right. I…” Chris had only just made it over to the dryer when he went stock-still. “Oh God.”

“What?”

“We went to prom together.”

She shut her mouth again. The more she thought about it, the wider her eyes went. Oh no. _Oh no_.“…well. That’s true.”

“Twice.”

“Yeah. And Homecoming, I guess.”

“Oh, right, we _did_ do that.”

“A couple times.”  
  
“A couple, yeah.” There was a beat of silence, perfect in its heaviness. Then, mouth still half-open from the argument he’d been trying to construct in his head, Chris slowly asked, “H-hey Ash?”

“Yeah?”

He blinked and stared at the tie rack hanging on the back of the laundry room door. “Are, uh…” he cleared his throat, “Are we dating?”

She was quiet for a moment. A long moment. An unbelievably, painfully, excruciatingly long moment. “It sure sounds like it,” she finally said, hands folded neatly on her lap as she, too, stared at the ties. Another noise escaped her, maybe something meant to be a tense little laugh.

“Kinda does,” he agreed. “Kiiinda does.”

“Maybe we should, um…” Ashley’s voice trailed off into an uncertain hum. She swallowed hard enough that Chris could hear the click of her throat. A sliver of her tongue poked out to wet her lower lip, which had long since gone raw and puffy from the way she’d been worrying it between her teeth. Whatever she was looking for inside of herself, she thought she’d found it—she steadied herself, sat up straighter, and tried to keep her voice level as she said, “Maybe we _should_ kiss, then.”

They turned, nearly in unison, looking at one another with all but identical expressions of shock. Of alarm. Of _relief_.

Surprising them _both_ , it was Chris who moved first, hand sliding to cup her cheek. And Ashley leaned into him as though she’d done it a hundred times before, utterly unaware of the way his fingers trembled against her skin. She closed her eyes and he pulled her closer, feeling the frantic tic of her pulse against his palm—

“ _Hey!_ ” came a jeering voice from the other side of the door (probably Mike, but possibly Josh), punctuated by three sharp knocks loud enough to send them springing apart. “Time’s up, horndogs!”


End file.
